A boy named Hope Estheim
by twirlingdevine
Summary: A strange new teacher leaves model student Hope Estheim in a frazzle, but this black-haired man brings more secrets and shock into his life than just poorly graded papers... [AU, Hope-centric, focuses on the relationships of the six main characters]
1. Mr Raines

Hi everyone! This will be my first multi-chapter story. I haven't got it all planned out yet but hopefully I'll work it to its' completion. One of my weaknesses in writing is coming up with plots, so I'm trying to focus more on that. With your feedback I might be able to do that!

For this story I didn't want to focus on a couple, but instead on the family dynamics between the six l'Cie, except in a modern setting. I normally don't like doing this with Final Fantasy characters, but XIII's modern setting allows a little more breadth. Hope is my favourite character so the story focuses on him and the trials he goes through growing up. I hope you like it!

* * *

The man threw the papers in the air, his expression unreadable as the array of slips danced in the air, falling gracefully to the floor as if mocking us.

I was beside myself; never had a teacher given me so much as a bad grade let alone thrown my assignment around as if it was a disgrace to human society. The boys beside me looked equally as shocked, although for some of them I didn't think they should really be surprised. The ones prone to bad grades usually shrugged off their minimal efforts and went back to whatever conspicuous behaviour they had been divulging in. But I had to admit, even if their papers were as atrociously poor as they usually were, there was no need to throw their work in their faces.

Which was why I was even more shocked – I was a straight A student, and the teachers always warmed to me instantly. So to have this teacher – a rather unfitting label for this man – throwing my paper as if any old piece of rubbish was beyond me.

"This," He announced, his expression tight, his tone controlled, "is appalling."

I had no words to say. What _could_I say? I knew my standards for an essay were much higher than the others standing beside me, and to be classed as being at the same level was an insult.

The others though quickly found their tongues.

"I can't accept this! You barely even read my paper!"

"Instead of throwing it around, you could help me make it better!"

"And as if _Hope's _is that bad! He's always the top of the class!"

I kept my mouth shut, somewhat glad someone had decided to defend me. The man's face, however, did not stir.

"I am merely voicing my opinion on your pieces." He said calmly. There was something mysteriously sly about this man – he would throw your work in your face and call it appalling, but in a tone and manner that couldn't be classified as derogatory or detrimental. It was frustrating. "Work of this level is beyond salvation; which is why they lie on the floor, ready for discarding."

His sharp, meticulous language caught the others off-guard, and they stood there, their faces filled with disbelief.

"I expect another essay in two days," He offered, turning to leave. He strode down the hall with a strangely fitting confidence.

"This guy's a joke! He expects us to write another essay!? It's the first week of school!"

My friend Kai nudged me with his elbow. "Do you think we could switch classes while it's still early? I don't wanna put up with this loon!"

A class change did sound tempting. But I sensed there was more to this guy than was being revealed, and I, ever persistent, wanted to prove to him that I knew how to write an essay. I wasn't going to let this get to me. I would write an essay he could never throw in my face. He could count on it.

...

News of the strange new teacher quickly spread throughout the school. There seemed to be a clear split in opinion between the students, or rather, the boys and the girls. The boys hated his guts; almost every boy in the class had been humiliated by his nonchalant criticisms, forced to retake every test and assignment. The girls, while treated similarly, treated the dilemma with a determination similar to mine, but of a different kind; they fell head over heels in love with his good looks. I had to admit I was surprised – by his description, anyone would guess he was a grumpy old man with a beer belly and a thick accent, but this man was young, with a deep, calming voice and an impressive build. The black hair that framed his face especially made the girls swoon. I thought it was ridiculous that they would accept his judgement just because of his looks, but I was so determined with my own goal that it didn't really matter. While they were busy giggling and whispering during class, I was paying close attention to him. He wasn't a bad teacher at all; he had strict control of the class and could explain things clearly. But when it came to grading, no amount of good teaching could offer us the secret to scoring any higher than a C.

The secret was known by no one. He had just started this year, and so there were no other students that we could ask. We were the first, the guinea pigs that would trial him for the year and warn next year's year 9's to switch classes before they were stuck with this guy for the whole year.

It was a system the school had gotten used to. During my first year at high school, we had been warned by the higher years to avoid certain teachers at all costs. In some cases they were right, but in others they had just been delinquents and the poor teacher didn't know how to deal with it. We were a medium-sized school, a private institute that cost an arm and a leg to be tutored at (and sometimes I wondered how certain people were allowed in here). My father had insisted I go to a good school, as being his only child he had high hopes for me. I knew he wouldn't be happy when he heard of my new teacher. He would probably march down to the office and demand me be moved to another class.

But I didn't want to let that happen just yet. I was adamant that I could score my usual grades. While my grades were still higher than anyone else's, I wasn't about to accept anything less than what I knew I deserved.

...

When I got home, it was the usual.

Since starting high school, I had slipped into the same mundane routine with my father; he would ask how my day was, I would say good, he would ask if I was studying, I'd say yes. And then I would go off to my room to study, and he would stay in his office and do his work. At dinner my mother strained to spark a conversation between us; you could cut the tension with a knife.

I can't exactly remember the point in time when my relationship with dad became this way. But he hasn't been my favourite person lately. All he wanted to know was if I was doing well at school. It didn't matter what else was going on in my life. He's never listened to a word I've said, and all he cares about is his work. His job as a government body wasn't easy, and I knew that, but he could still make time for his family.

When I was growing up, I used to want to be just like him. I wanted to work for the government and be a business man like him. But not anymore. I don't want any kind of job that disallows me time with the people I love.

Dad seems to have forgotten this.

My mum tried everything to get us to talk. She desperately wanted her two boys to get along again, and I knew the awkward tension between us upsets her. I didn't want to upset her, but I couldn't stand my dad. He didn't understand. He couldn't even see that he was sacrificing his own wife and son for his job.

When mum made an effort, though, I tried to as well. I only did it for her. I never wanted to make her sad, the way dad did.

Tonight though, I was going to concentrate on this essay. I scrambled from the dinner table while still chewing my last bite, determined to give this piece of writing my all. I saw the disheartened look on my mother's face as I left; she was probably about to try and spark a conversation again. I silently promised her I'd devote a few words to my father tomorrow night, sitting down at my desk and setting myself for the best essay I'd ever written.

...

"Hey Hope, you'll never guess what happened!" Kai came running up to me as I entered the building. He must have seen the serious look on my face, because he stopped short and asked, "Woah, don't tell me he failed you too?"

"Wait, what?" I asked, although I could already see where this was going.

"Mr. Raines, I heard he failed most of his other class on that essay. I say we still change classes while we have the chance."

I clutched at the paper I was holding in my hands, the promised essay I spent all night on. I'd never worked so hard on an essay in my life, and I was sure it could even get me into Eden with this kind of quality. There was no way he could fail it.

"I'd like to see him try and fail this," I held up my paper, and Kai quickly skimmed over what he could see.

"The font size is really small…"

"I didn't want to waste paper. It's ten pages long."

"Ten pages!?" Kai stood back, ogling at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was a little, but I had to prove my worth to this guy. Failing half the class… that just wasn't right. There was no reason to be that harsh on fourteen and fifteen year olds.

"What are you guys talking about?" A voice trailed from behind Kai. Elida came rushing up to us, her short blonde hair bouncing as she cocked her head at my paper. "What's that?"

"You're being too loud," Kai hushed her. He would often give jabs at her for being too loud, but in all honesty she could be quite flamboyant. It was in her character, I suppose. Plus she needed a strong voice if she wanted to be a singer one day.

"Wow Hope, is that an assignment? You really went all out this time, which is saying a lot because you always go all out," She said with genuine astonishment. I rolled my eyes. Yes, I was academic, but I wasn't a genius.

"You're so lucky you haven't got Cid vicious." Kai sighed in Elida's direction.

"Uh… 'Cid-vicious'?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Mr. Raines' first name is Cid. He's already earnt a nickname. I'd call him something much worse though."

I shook my head, thinking instead of coming up with such a childish nickname the others should have been working on their essays. Just as the thought ran through my mind, the bell rang for class.

"Good luck, you two," Elida smirked, running off to her locker.

"Don't worry, I only just need to pass and by year ten I'm outta here!" Kai called out after her. He turned back to me with a smirk. "I don't need to know how to write an essay to be a pilot."

We headed to class and sat in our seats, and there at the front was Mr. Raines. The girls were gushing as usual, whispering frantically between themselves. I noticed there were a few guys missing today. Typical, the day the essay's due and they skip class thinking that'll make it any easier. I had other things to worry about though. Mr. Raines was facing the board, scrutinising what he'd just written. He seemed like he was a perfectionist, but if he was going to teach adolescents he had to realise we're still learning. He looked stuffy today, formal clothing, an undershirt that almost went up to his chin, heavy black boots and gloves to match. He did not fit the image of teacher at all – he looked more suited to a soldier or a commander of a ship. I silently chuckled to myself, thinking maybe one day Kai might find himself working under this guy yet again. But jokes aside, there was something that made me think there was more to this guy then he was letting on.

He suddenly turned from the board where he had written in fancy handwriting "Second-chance essay due today". Second chance? Who did this guy think he was?

"I trust you all brought in some better quality work today," He said, with that airy tone that frustrated me to no end. "I hope you can redeem yourselves and show me a standard worthy of your year level. If you ever want to get into Eden, you'll have to do better."

I felt the frustration hit a crescendo and I stood with my essay in hand. The rest of the class all stared at me, but I ignored them as I marched to the front of the room, boldly handing him my essay. I'd never be this rude to any other teacher, but this guy just really set me on edge.

He raised his eyebrows at me with curiosity. "Ah, you, boy, you think you have something good?"

I sucked in a breath. "My name is Hope. And yes, I do."

He took my essay between two fingers, as if he didn't want to touch anything not worthy of himself.

"Well," He said calmly, not taking a step back even though I had come closer than I intended. His stare was intimidating, but I tried not to let it show in my expression. "We'll see if your essay is an embodiment of your skills, or just a silly boy's fancy."

My eyes darted from the floor, to the paper, to my mum sitting in the corner, and back to the floor. I did not look at my dad.

He shook his head, rubbing his forehead and sighing. I don't think he could quite believe what I had just presented to him, and neither could I.

My dad just shook his head again. "D, Hope? D?"

I shook my head right back, lifting my arms to indicate I was just as shocked as he was. "You can't tell me you believe his judgement in scoring is correct, can you, dad? Read the essay yourself – it's not a D qua-"

"It doesn't matter what my opinion is. It could be a PhD level essay, but the people at Eden aren't going to know and that D on your report is not going to get you in."

"Dad-"

"This is outrageous. I can't believe your grades have slipped so far."

"Dad, that's not-"

"This is unacceptable."

"Bart…" My mother uttered quietly, but he continued to pace back and forth, and she looked back down at the floor in defeat.

This was exactly why I had grown so distant from my dad lately. He never listened to a word I said. He's always just thought of me as a kid. He didn't even believe that the teacher was at fault and not me!

He gave a final huff and turned to me. "That settles it. Your grades are slipping and you're at that age where it's easy to fall behind. I have no choice."

I started thinking to myself I'd better call Kai after this to get him to switch grades as well, as I was sure that's what my father was about to propose. But for once he caught me off-guard with his answer.

"I'm getting you a tutor."

...

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! The rest of the gang will be introduced later, one of them in the next chapter! I thought it'd be nice to add in Kai and Elida as well. If you don't know who they are, they're Hope's childhood friends depicted in Episode Zero –Promise-, a novella written as a prequel to Final Fantasy XIII. You should definitely check it out! Thank you for reading, and please leave some feedback!


	2. The tutor

This chapter was a lot of fun to write. Hope you enjoy a new character's introduction!

* * *

I was scowling. It was a bit out of character for me, but I wasn't impressed.

I didn't need a tutor. Mr. Raines was not giving me the correct grades, and I was of a higher standard than most people in the year level above me. Dad had gone too far this time. He hadn't listened to me – again – and now I had to put up with being taught by some college student with about as much interest in teaching me as their own assignments.

I knew our school had a close affiliation with the University – another reason my dad sent me to this school – and I had no problems with this. I wanted to get into that Uni, and I knew it was hard to do so. But I did not need tutoring. What I needed was a teacher that gave correct grades.

The door suddenly opened, catching me off guard – I was still sitting with my arms crossed and my face in a tight scowl, an unwelcoming image for the poor tutor. But the tutor herself looked equally uninterested; her mouth was closed tight, her eyes almost stuck in a permanent glare, her body language closed and personal. She was a very pretty girl – light pink hair that swept across her features in a side fringe, with her delicate curls pulled to one side, and the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. But her alluring looks didn't help hide her impeding personality. This was going to be interesting.

"Excuse me, do you know where I can find Hope Estheim? We're going to have a class in here, so you shouldn't be hanging around-"

"I'm Hope Estheim."

She looked shocked, an expression she didn't seem capable of a few seconds ago.

"You're Hope?"

"Yeah."

"But you're a-"

"Boy, I know."

"I'm sorry. I just thought…"

"I get that a lot," I shook it off. Her personality seemed a bit more open now – she seemed a nice person. I reminded myself not to judge a book by its cover.

"Right. Well, my name's Lightning. I'll be your tutor. Nice to meet you."

We exchanged greetings and she sat down, all the while I marvelled at her name. Lightning – that couldn't be her real name, right? Then again, these days people had all sorts of whacky names, and I supposed I shouldn't really be making fun of someone's name when my own name had such a feminine quality.

"So – I hear you used to be a perfect student but your grades are slipping." She looked at me seriously, as if ready to give me the whole 'teenage-phase' spiel.

My scowl returned. "It's not me – it's my teacher. He gives everyone bad grades regardless of the work we do. I tried to explain that to my dad, but he won't listen."

"Are you sure it's just the teacher?" She looked at my conspicuously. My scowl tightened.

"I'm serious, he's a maniac. Here, just- look at this paper. He graded it a D. You can't tell me this is a D quality essay."

I handed her the paper and she gently took it – a natural maternal instinct was beginning to shine through in her – and started to read it. I saw her eyes widen as she read, and I sat in quiet joy, basking in a silent praise that I had long since missed.

"It's good," She said, which might have seemed underdressed, but her tone revealed shock and impression. "This is easily a year 12 standard. I don't think you'll have any  
problems getting into Eden."

"Really?" I sat up in my pride, my eyes lighting up. While I had always received praise, my father had always warned me to knuckle down in preparation for year 12 – no one had ever told me I was such a high standard before. "Thanks!"

"I can see why you're mad," She looked down at the grade on my paper, a puzzled expression sweeping over her, "This is near-perfect. Certainly not worthy of a D. Who's your teacher?"

"Mr. Raines. He's a new teacher here."

"Hm. Well, maybe you shouldn't worry so much. It'll only be for a year, and in future years your work will be cross-marked by the teachers anyway."

"That's the problem – my dad says if my grades don't get better I'll have to stay in tutoring."

"Have you tried the coordinator?" She offered.

"Tried that. They're more interested in the senior levels' problems."

She chuckled, and I looked up at her in confusion.

"Sorry – it's just, you seem like an adult trapped in a kid's body. You're so mature for your age."

I smiled bashfully, my more child-like personality shining through. "I-I'm not that mature. But sometimes I do feel like I'm a bit of an oddball around others my age."

"Do you feel like you're surrounded by idiots?" She smirked.

"I wouldn't put it that crudely, but something like that." I smiled in embarrassment. That was probably the more honest way of putting it.

She laughed again. "I felt the same way." She looked back down at my paper. Her face looked determined. "Right. Tell you what – next time you have an assignment, I'll help you write it to an even higher standard."

"You mean Uni standard?"

"You're certainly capable. And if he marks it any lower than an A, I'll march in there myself and see what this guy's problem is."

"Really? Actually – we have an assignment that's due next week." I handed her another slip of paper, already clad with notes that I had scribbled while he was explaining what to do.

"Perfect. Let's get started." She smiled that rare smile of hers. I had a feeling I was going to like Lightning.

…

I stayed in my tutoring sessions with Lightning, my father under the impression I was improving my grades when I was really being taught university-level tips. Lightning gave me access to example essays from first-years, and even showed me one she wrote herself. My eyes had widened at her level of writing skill, and I swore to myself I'd strive to get there one day. She was strict and straight to the point, but she was helpful and better than any of the softer teachers I'd had.

The week wore on and the essay was due tomorrow. Kai was ready to pull his hair out in class.

"I'm never gonna get to flight school at this rate…" He slammed his face onto his pencil case, though he said so quietly to avoid another dramatic punishment from Mr. Raines.

I screwed my face up in thought. "Do you think this guy's just testing us?"

Kai lifted his head wearily and said, "Huh?"

"I mean," I looked around, noticing our raven-haired teacher scolding some of the girls for giggling too much, and took this as an opportunity to talk. "Surely the other teachers must know. Maybe this is some sort of test or game he's playing."

"I don't care, I just know I don't want to be in this class anymore." The brunette raised his eyebrows in the teacher's direction. "I've already put in an application to switch."

My heart sank a little, but I had other classes with Kai, and either way I was going to stick this out, especially now that Lightning was helping me out.

"There's just something about him that tells me… there's more than we know," I furrowed my brow in his direction.

"C'mon, Hope, who cares what the old man's deal is?" Kai snickered, a little louder than he should have, because Mr. Raines turned, his cape making a dramatic 'whooshing' noise (and what kind of teacher wears such an outfit anyway?) and stared in his direction.

"Kai," he said calmly, with an airy tone that made Kai freeze, "Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

"No, sir," Kai stammered, his face turning red. The girls gushed at our teacher's ability to shut the classes most exuberant student up.

"I am outta here," Kai mouthed to me, slamming his face back onto his pencil case.

I just smiled at his humour, and waited in anticipation for my last session with Lightning. My essay was almost complete, and not to toot my own horn or anything, but it was of a standard even Mr. Raines couldn't slap a D on.

…

"Right," Lightning said with some finality, a phrase she often came out with over the past week, "All finished."

She handed me my essay with her final notes on it, although there were few, and I smiled. "This'll show him."

She made a noise that could have passed for a chuckle. "You did well. Too bad we won't be able to go to Eden at the same time. I'll have graduated by the time you get in." She poked my forehead, and I let out a dissatisfied noise.

"Hey! I could skip straight to year 12 after this essay, you know," I pouted, but she ignored my remark and started packing her things.

"We'll have another session next week to discuss your results. Hopefully the last one, huh?" She offered a rare smile, if you could call it that. Lightning's smiles weren't wide or inviting, but the corners of her lips would tug upwards very slightly, and that was the most I ever got, and probably the most everyone got. She was almost as mysterious as Mr. Raines.

"Thanks, Lightning." I smiled back, packing my essay into my bag.

"Good luck." She said as she opened the door to leave. "By the sounds of this kook you'll need it."

"I won't need it after your expertise," I added, and I saw a hint of an eye roll as she shut the door. Maybe the tutoring sessions weren't a complete waste.


End file.
